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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412426">Kamikaze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeOaks/pseuds/GeorgeOaks'>GeorgeOaks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive John Winchester, Alcoholic John Winchester, Alternate Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crossover, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Bi-Curious Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Derek Hale, Case Fic, Dean Learning Monsters Don't Have to Be Monsters, Derek Learning Hunters Don't Have to Hunt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hale Pack, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Hunger Due to Bad Parenting, Hunger Due to Lack of Food, Hunters &amp; Hunting, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Leading to Alternate Canon Shows, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Derek/Paige, Pre-Supernatural, Preteen Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Stealing Food to Eat, Supportive Hales, Supportive Sam Winchester, Tags May Change, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Derek Hale, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolves, kind of, pre-teen wolf, protective Hales</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:34:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeOaks/pseuds/GeorgeOaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester's latest hunt brings his boys to Beacon Hills. While their dad joins the sister of an old hunting buddy to bring the west coast's most prominent werewolf pack to its knees, Dean and Sam enrol in the local schools and meet the Hale kids.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome to Beacon Hills High</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know technically the dates don't match up for Dean and Derek to be in high school at the same time, but AU with me here.</p><p>My apologies for any grammatical mistakes or typos. This is unbeta'ed.</p><p>Chapter TW: mentions of alcohol, alcoholism, and smoking; mentions of/internalised homophobia and biphobia.<br/>Chapter Summary: Dean has his first day of school in Beacon Hills and meets a scowly boy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean had a headache.</p><p>He wasn't sure what he had done this time to earn him the bench on this hunt, but it was pretty common for his dad to swap between encouraging Dean to be the world's best damn hunter to chastising him for not being a normal teenager. They had only just gotten to town on John's most recent hunt, and John was adamant that Dean was staying out of it. Dean got a lecture and everything, and as usual, Dean's protest drove John to drink. </p><p>Now, it was bright and early. Dean's headache was from cleaning after his drunk dad all night, and John's was no doubt a hangover. Dean was careful not to say anything as John shuffled him and Sammy into the car and dropped them off at school.</p><p>It would be easier in a year or so when Sam would be old enough for them to attend the same school, but for now, Dean paid close attention to where Sam's was in relation to his, knowing from this day onward, he would be responsible for dropping off and picking up his little brother.</p><p>The high school was fairly large, larger than Dean would expect from a town this size. Hell, the town wasn't even big enough to have city cops, the policing done entirely by the local sheriff's office. But hey, a bigger school might make it easier to ditch, who knew.</p><p>John had dropped them off early enough to register and still get breakfast served by the school, but after wandering a few halls to acquaint himself, Dean left to go a few blocks to a coffee shop they had passed. He peeked through the window before going in, making sure his dad didn't have the same idea, and attempted to charm the barista into a free expresso. It didn't work, and he could only afford a small black coffee, but he thought he was honing his flirting pretty well.</p><p>By the time he returned to the high school, the first lessons had begun. He chugged the coffee before going to the administrative office, using the utility bills John had stolen to register himself. He already had a list of other schools he actually attended along with a list of fake addresses, claiming the excuse of his dad being military causing them to move around a lot. He knew it was going to be a pain in the ass for the office to try to get a hold of any transcripts, especially with the fake addresses, and usually, that was enough for the office to give up and take his word for some things.</p><p>Including which classes he should take. He tried to choose the easy A ones, but being a junior, it was hard to argue out of the higher-level ones. In the end, he had half easy A ones, but then also chemistry, a literature class he knew was going to hate, and fucking Spanish. </p><p>"Oh, bueno," he muttered sarcastically when he was handed his schedule.</p><p>He thought about just ditching altogether for the day, but since his dad was on a <em> be-normal </em>kick, he knew he had to stay long enough to report something back.</p><p>His first lesson was some government class, and Dean sat in the back with his head down. The teacher tried to call him out twice before they came to the compromise of Dean sleeping with his head propped up on his fist. His second was the Spanish class, and his teacher was hot enough for Dean to pretend to pay attention. He did love him an accent.</p><p>Next, it was lunch since Dean was put in the first lunch group— and who the fuck ate lunch this early— but they had sloppy joes, so Dean dealt with it.</p><p>This school also had the super awesome policy of allowing kids to eat outside, so Dean made a beeline to the lunch-court-area-place. He was sure there was a proper name for it, but he didn't much care. Several students were there in their little cliques, and Dean realised that he would have to get his food even earlier if he was ever going to sequester a table for himself. He debated going back inside, but in the end, picked a table with only one other occupant. He didn't acknowledge the guy before plopping down at the other side and shoving his first sandwich in his mouth.</p><p>Another cool thing about the school was they had soda machines— like everywhere— and Dean shoved the rest of his first sandwich in his mouth before twisting open his Mountain Dew and gulping half that down with it. He made a grunting sound of approval, going in for his second sandwich.</p><p>"Hm," someone said.</p><p>Dean looked up to notice the other boy at the table watching him, frowning. He was eyeing Dean's stacked plate, and Dean thought it was judgmental.</p><p>He scowled back despite his cheeks being puffed out to accommodate the mouth-full. "W'a?"</p><p>The guy blinked, face going impassive, before looking down at his own plate. Dean looked as well and almost choked with his snort.</p><p>The guy had three more sandwiches than Dean did. They were more neatly stacked, Dean would admit, but if the dude hadn't eaten one yet, he had seven of his own. No wonder the lunch lady didn't say anything when Dean asked for four.</p><p>Dean tried to say <em>hypocritic</em>, but it came out more of a noise of the sentiment.</p><p>The boy huffed and shrugged, picking up a sandwich and seemed to ready himself into ignoring Dean.</p><p>Which was fine by Dean.</p><p>Dean was on his third sandwich and second Mountain Dew before he focused beyond his plate. He slowed down, letting his eyes wander as he chewed. He watched a giggling gang of girls, smiling to himself as he thought of them like that, and what had to be the computer geek clique arguing over a stack of cards Dean was pretty sure came from an anime television show. As he tossing the last bite into his mouth, he glanced over to the boy at his table again, and promptly almost choked. Again.</p><p>The guy had finished his seven sandwiches.</p><p>Dude obviously noticed Dean's reaction, and he smirked, not looking up from the book he was reading. His plate was pushed away, three damn water bottles laying on it empty.</p><p>"D-dude," Dean coughed after he swallowed, banging a fist to his chest. "Dude. What the hell?"</p><p>The guy looked up and raised an eyebrow at Dean.</p><p>"<em> How </em> the hell?"</p><p>The guy shrugged, easy as anything, and looked back to his book.</p><p>"Colour me impressed, man. Damn. You do food competition shit? Because if not, you totally should."</p><p>The guy was smirking again, and Dean could tell he was pleased by his comment. "Not allowed to," he answered, voice soft and a little arrogant. "Be unfair."</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mr Sandwich King."</p><p>Sandwich King huffed. "You can call it a family trait."</p><p>Still stung by his dad the previous night and that morning, Dean snorted bitterly. "Lucky. Mine's alcoholism."</p><p>The guy side-eyed him but shrugged again.</p><p>Dean contemplated his last sandwich. He peeked back over to the guy, contemplating his plate as well, wondering how he did it. He watched, trying to make sure the guy's full attention was on his book, cleared his mouth with a large swing of his drink, then attempted to cram the entire thing in.</p><p>It didn't work.</p><p>It <em>almost </em>worked, but he got most of it in when he gagged, causing him to inhale, then cough. He swore, some sloppy joe came out his nose.</p><p>Sandwich King was laughing at him. Dean glared, but he just quirked an eyebrow unapologetically.</p><p>"Jerk," Dean said under his breath, wiping his mouth with the end of his shirt. He had made a mess, and not just with that last sandwich. Compared to Sandwich King, he was a downright pig. Apparently, the guy thought so, too, because he coyly slid some napkins down to Dean, not looking up from his book but still smirking.</p><p>Dean was tempted to throw the napkins in his face, but… he did kind of need them. Grumbling, he snatched them up and used them, throwing them on his plate instead. Whatever. If this was a food competition, Dean would have been second. Pointedly not recognising he would be second in a competition between only two, he shoved his garbage together and left, dumping his trash before returning his plate. The journey would have been easier if he had gotten a tray, but the guy didn't have one either, so there.</p><p>He wondered around, dodging teachers and trying to find a good place to sneak a smoke. The bell rang before he could find one, and he pulled out his schedule to find his next class.</p><p>It was the literature one, so he definitely would have to find a smoking area tomorrow to prepare himself beforehand, and he travelled through the halls until he found the right room.</p><p>Dean walked in, and his eyes immediately fell on Sandwich King. Dude was busy getting his notebook or something from his backpack, so Dean gave up his glare before his face settled in one properly and went straight to the back, picking the spot by the window. He pulled a stolen pencil from his pocket and doodled on the desk as students trickled in.</p><p>The teacher, some old dude with glasses, shut the door at the bell and began roll call. Sandwich King raised his hand at the name Derek, and Dean noticed several students looked the kid's directions too. They were giving Derek odd glances, had been before the bell, like they wanted to approach him but were wary. Dean was annoyed at himself for noticing, reminding himself he wasn't supposed to notice boys and forced himself to look away.</p><p>At the end of the roll call, the teacher said, "And, yes, our new student…" he looked around until he caught Dean's eye and smiled. "Welcome, Dean Winchester."</p><p>Everyone turned around to look at Dean then, including Sandwich King, and Dean leaned back, effecting casual and ease, and grinned the teacher. "Thanks." He caught one of the girls giving him a once-over, and he winked at her, making her giggle and blush.</p><p>"Alright," the teacher said, moving to a cabinet. "Today we're taking a test on <em> The Scarlet Letter</em>. Those who were awarded an extension on their papers can bring them to the front now. I don't suspect the test should take the full class time, but whoever finishes first, please go to the back with Mr Winchester to help catch him up. Mr Winchester…"</p><p>He withdrew from the cabinet with several books and began stumbling his way to Dean. Dean took pity on him and met him halfway, weaving around a few students returning from dropping off their papers. Dean looked to the very back of the classroom were some work tables were and headed there instead, resigned to flipping blankly through the books before some nerd joined him.</p><p>He sighed as he sat, and he grabbed <em> The Scarlet Letter </em>first. He was at a school a few months ago reading this, but he didn't remember what anyone said about it. He tossed it to the side, figuring he would have to bullshit his way through that one first, and began looking through the others. <em> Grapes of Wrath, </em> cool name, too many pages. <em> The Great Gatsby</em>, weird cover, something to do with stalking? <em> Slaughterhouse-Five</em>, also cool name, size and softcover perfect to fit in his pocket. <em> The Bluest Eyes </em>sounded like a chick-flick. And <em> Catcher in the Rye </em>looked boring, but sweet— it had profanity. A lot of profanity. Damn, or as the book would say, goddamn.</p><p>The profanity tricked Dean into flipping to the front and start reading. Unable to help himself, he pulled out his stolen pencil again and made little notes. Not dorky things, he wasn't Sam or something, but other things. Like a <em> haha, like me! </em> about Holden's poor academic record, an <em>ew </em>about Ackley, a <em> take that </em>during Holden's fight, and a <em> this will bite him on the ass </em>while Holden was talking to the classmate's mother on the train.</p><p>After a while, Dean began to notice there wasn't as much scratching of pencils happening in the quiet classroom, and he looked around. It appeared several students were finished with their tests, but no one apparently wanted to be the first to turn it in and thus get stuck with the new guy. Dean didn't at all blame them. If he and they were lucky, they could squeeze this out to the bell.</p><p>After a few more minutes, someone made an annoyed sound and roughly got up from their seat. It was Sandwich King, and he handed over his test, nodded to something the teacher whispered at him, then gathered up his stuff to stomp toward Dean in the back.</p><p>"Ha ha," Dean said under his breath. He watched as the kid's jaw tightened like he could hear Dean, but Dean figured it was from making eye contact with him. "Welcome to my corner," he said louder when the guy reached him, though not so loud as to disturb the class.</p><p>Sandwich Guy— damn, was it Dan or something— sat adjacent to Dean and scowled at him. For the first time, Dean really observed him. He was about Dean's height, with dark hair that just came down to his ears and pale skin that was tanned no doubt with the California sun. He had a little bit of a bunny-teeth thing going that poked out around his unhappy frown. "Which of these have you read?" he asked.</p><p>"None."</p><p>Sandwich King raised an eyebrow and looked at the book in Dean's hands. "We haven't started that one yet."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>"We've done <em> Great Gatsby </em> and now <em> Scarlet Letter </em>."</p><p>"Cool." Dean marked his place by bending a corner of the page and crossed his arms over the table. "So, what were the test questions?"</p><p>"Really?" The guy was clearly unimpressed.</p><p>Dean tried a grin. "Why not? Unless you think Mr Professor is gonna give me different questions."</p><p>The guy rolled his eyes. "I'm not helping some stranger cheat."</p><p>"Dean Winchester." Dean held out a hand for the other to shake. "There, not a stranger."</p><p>Sandwich King ignored his hand. "No."</p><p>"Aw, come on." Dean wiggled his fingers. "You'd help out a friend, right? I can be your friend."</p><p>"I don't have friends."</p><p>Dean mocked a gasp, moving his hand to lay over his heart. "What, <em> you</em>? Impossible. You're just so charming!"</p><p>The guy apparently decided to ignore Dean. He opened his notebook which had a bunch of neat-looking notes. "This class is all about lit analysis. We have vocabulary words, but they always have to do with that. Mr Foster always writes them on the board on Monday and we test on Fridays. We're given chapters to read for homework, along with papers and essays—"</p><p>"Jesus fucking…"</p><p>"—lectures about analysis usually applied to what we're reading, and group work sometimes." This last he said with a little pout. He then pushed his notebook over to Dean and pointed to a list of about seven words. "Here."</p><p>Dean blinked at it then back to him. "Thanks?"</p><p>The guy glared. "Write them down."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"They're this week's vocabulary words."</p><p>Dean groaned. He pulled <em> Catcher in the Rye </em>back to him, opening the back cover and scribbling the words down.</p><p>The guy grunted. "On <em>paper</em>. Don't write in the book."</p><p>"Too late."</p><p>"Do you even have paper?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>"Do you have anything?"</p><p>Dean held up his pencil in answer before finishing writing the list.</p><p>The guy grumbled something under his breath, but Dean couldn't hear it. Dean decided not to worry about it. He looked over the list, frowning at the unfamiliar words. "What the fuck is an anthro-po… anthro-po-mor…"</p><p>"Anthropomorphism. It's when something nonhuman behaves in a human-like way."</p><p>"Ah." Immediately, Dean's mind jumped to werewolves, vampires, and other monsters. Hell, who knew there was another name for it other than just <em>monster</em>.</p><p>"A good example is cartoons," the guy continued. "In cartoons, anything can become human-like. Like Mickey Mouse. Real mice can't talk and dance."</p><p>Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Didn't think of cartoons, but okay. Yeah."</p><p>The guy looked at him questioningly. </p><p>Dean shrugged. "Colloquialism?"</p><p>"Use of informal language. Like, slang."</p><p>"Malapropism?"</p><p>"You know, part of the vocabulary words is that we look them up ourselves."</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes but didn't push it since he could tell the guy's patience was apparently extremely thin. "This is so stupid. What even is the point of this class."</p><p>"Literature," the guy said seriously. </p><p>Dean looked at him flatly. "No shit."</p><p>The guy sighed. "It teaches us <em> how </em> to read literature."</p><p>"Why? What does learning to read like a wily old professor gonna do for us?"</p><p>"Enrich your life?" the guy suggested. "Help you enjoy the hard work of millions of authors? Prepare you for college?"</p><p>Dean snorted. "Right. Me and college. And I don't need my life enriched, thanks." He tossed down his pencil and hunched back.</p><p>"Then why take the damn course?"</p><p>"I didn't pick it," Dean said defensively. "Y'all's stubborn, bitchy clerk picked it for me."</p><p>The guy scowled. "That stubborn, bitchy clerk is my aunt."</p><p>"Oops," Dean said evenly, not sounding at all sorry.</p><p>They fell into an intense stare-off, neither of them budging until the bell sounded. Dean jumped, having not expected it. The guy snatched up his notebook and made for the door without looking back. Dean stuck his tongue out at him, aware him jumping from the bell made him lose the staring contest. Sighing, Dean gathered the books in his arms and decided to find his locker to dump them in.</p><p>Sandwich King was in his chemistry class as well, and they swapped glares before Dean sat in the back again. Unfortunately, this action caused him to be partnered with the dumbest sack of shit in the damn school, and they weren't five minutes into their lab before something started sizzling. They were excused from the lab but had to do book work instead. At least Dean re-learned Sandwich King's name was Derek, which was good because if he was going to have some kind of enemy here, he should know their name.</p><p>At least Derek didn't strike Dean as the bullying type. Dean found himself watching Derek rather than concentrating on his book work. The kid was clearly smart but also just as clearly had no interest in chemistry. He seemed to be on friendly terms with his lab partner, but the air between them was stiff. If the guy was just as rude to everyone as he was Dean, Dean could guess why his partner was tense.</p><p>Dean was the first to leave this time, and after a super sucky math lesson, he had his final class of the day: P fucking E.</p><p>Dean pushed his way into the gymnasium to find it empty. A man in a red tracker suit jogged to him. </p><p>"New kid?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"Lockers through there," he pointed and tossed Dean red shorts and vest. </p><p>"We gotta dress up for this?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>Unsympathetic, the man headed back to his office. "Touche," Dean mumbled.</p><p>Dean only paused slightly before going into the men's locker room. When he got there, he gulped and ducked his head.</p><p>Not for the first time, and not for the millionth time either, Dean wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. Or why the fuck he was wrong. He had no problem liking girls, that was easy. Girls were soft and pretty, curvy and bouncy, and smelled good. It was easy to like them, to fantasise about them, to kiss their painted lips and move his body with theirs. Dean had only had sex twice, but he had made out with a ton of girls. He had felt up a ton of breasts, had his hand down a ton of skirts, and each experience reaffirmed that he <em>liked girls. </em></p><p>And seeing as he very obviously <em>liked girls</em>, he didn't see how he was in the wrong for noticing boys. He didn't <em>just </em>notice boys, didn't just react to them— he did with girls, too, so he obviously wasn't a fag. It was that simple. Or, he thought it was, until his dad caught him trying to flirt with a boy behind the counter of some motel where they were staying. His dad had looked at him oddly and spent days ranting about fags, so he learned it wasn't okay. It would make him a fag whether he also liked girls or not, apparently, and Dean ended up overtly flirting with pretty girls and made sure his dad caught him with a girl to finally end John's tirade. </p><p>Dean figured that was okay. He would keep anyone noticing boys away from any kind topic of conversation, would practise not noticing them, would make sure his dad never knew, and it wasn't like hooking up with girls was a hardship anyway.</p><p>Well, until he was in situations like this.</p><p>At least thirty boys were surrounding him in various stages of dress. They were teenage boys, so they were rambunctious, pushing each other around and literally running around with their dicks out— and <em> Dean </em>was a teenage boy too. A damn suggestive brick wall could make him harder than nails, and while he was a pro at hiding it, it was difficult to do sans clothing.</p><p>Dean firmly turned his back to them and tried to think of something else. Something gross.</p><p>Ghouls. Ghouls were gross. That one ghost his dad hunted was gross, its ghost-body missing chucks from however its human-self died. Vampires with their gross retracting teether, werewolves with their gross claws, wendigos with their gross smells.</p><p>It was enough, and Dean was able to change and follow a group of guys back to the gym.</p><p>They did laps, which was easy for Dean, then the coach separated them into teams for basketball. Dean didn't play much, but he knew the game. He was also in great shape, hunting did that, and had quick reflexes. The students who weren't up to snuff were cut, and soon they were down to two teams of four.</p><p>On Dean's team was a girl with dark skin and downright evil smile named Neka. Judging by the shouting of her friends, that was a shortened version of her name, but she introduced herself like that, so that was what he was going with. She was about his height and had a jump that could probably reach the high ceilings if she had the mind. Then there was a boy named Cameron who didn't seem very bright but had a mad pass and another girl whose name Dean didn't catch who could dodge and weave like a damn boxer. </p><p>Neka and Dean quickly became the captains and assessed the other team together.</p><p>There was a tall boy Neka called her cousin who apparently had a weakness in his dribbling if coming from the right side; the girl who checked Dean out in his lit class who was apparently named Karen and who Neka said would care more about her manicure than shooting, so she would almost always pass; a boy who Neka called Turtle and who would probably try to hog the ball; and finally, of course, Derek the Sandwich King.</p><p>"What about him?" Dean asked. They were shamelessly standing side-by-side, sizing up the team. The other team was huddle together, making their play, but Derek was standing off to the side, arms crossed and shamelessly watching Dean and Neka.</p><p>"Derek? He's the real threat."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"He was a star player until last year! He quit before the last game of the season. The whole thing was the talk of the school— well, <em> Derek </em>was the talk of the school for a while. Anyway, he just ran off the quart during one of the finals, and now he only plays in PE."</p><p>"No one knows why?"</p><p>Neka shrugged, clearly enjoying the gossip, but then visibly shook it away. "Anyway, when he played, he was one of the best. All the Hales were. His uncle Peter single-handedly took our school to nationals. Derek has wicked reflexes, a steady-ass dribble, and never misses a shot."</p><p>"Oh great," Dean said, annoyed, thinking of the sloppy joes and neat lit notes. "Great. So, he's just perfect at everything he does."</p><p>Neka snorted, shooting him a smirk. "If it helps, he sucks at math."</p><p>"Of course that doesn't help! <em> I </em> suck at math!"</p><p>Neka laughed at him.</p><p>Dean shoved her gently. "Okay, so… stay on your cousin's right, keep forcing Karen to pass, flank Turtle when he has the ball, and… what? Just keep Derek the Great away from the ball?"</p><p>"Pretty much."</p><p>Well, Dean had helped his dad with hunts on less info, he guessed.</p><p>They quickly went over to tell their other teammates and made a rough make-shift play. Dean kept glancing over his shoulder at the other team, hoping to catch something of <em>their </em>play, and noticed Derek kept rubbing his ears like he was trying to tune something out. It was weird, but whatever.</p><p>When the teams were ready, Neka and her cousin got into position for the ball, and the couch tossed it, blowing his whistle.</p><p>By the end, they lost, and Dean was ready to punch Derek.</p><p>Immediately, Derek was <em>right there</em>, keeping Dean from coming up to Neka's cousin from the right, stopping Dean before Dean could stop a pass to Turtle, blocking Dean when Dean tried to force Karen into picking passing and shooting, and intercepting almost every single one of Dean's passes. It was infuriating, because either Derek was smart enough to know his teammates' weaknesses or Dean's team was dumb enough to be predictable.</p><p>Then there was when Derek himself had the ball. He was seemingly unstoppable. He could dribble between other people's legs, could literally do a slamdunk, could fake a pass better than a damn pro, and could spin and turn so flawlessly, the quart might as well have been a stage.</p><p>Dean got in a few good ones of his own, however. He let his mind narrow down like it did when he trained for hunts, and soon he was hunting Derek. He got the ball from him at least eight times, was able to block his passes more often than not, and twice got around him to shoot.</p><p>They may have lost, but it was only by six points.</p><p>"Good game," Neka smiled, slapping Dean's shoulder. They were all panting and sweaty, and Dean wordlessly waved his hand to return the compliment. She nodded and slunk off to her friends. Dean wiped his forehead and picked his way out of the gym.</p><p>"Good game," someone else said behind him. It was Derek, following him to the locker room. His cheeks were flushed, but he wasn't nearly as sweaty or worn-out looking as the rest of them. Because of course not, why would he be? He was Derek the Great, King of Sandwiches and Perfection.</p><p>Dean could recognise the attempt Derek was making, however, and he looked far less scowly than earlier. Dean noticed, too, how much Derek enjoyed himself during the game. Once when Dean stole the ball from him, Dean thought he heard him chuckling, like Dean challenging him was fun.</p><p>"Yeah," he said. "Good game."</p><p>"You had a good team," Derek continued, falling into step with him.</p><p>"You too."</p><p>"You were also a good captain."</p><p>"... Thanks?" Dean frowned at him, wondering why he was being nice now.</p><p>Derek shrugged and picked up his step, getting ahead of Dean and continuing on. Dean had slowed to a stop and watched him go. Several guys shot Derek little congratulations but largely left him alone. Dean's attention was still on Derek when he entered the locker room, and he faced his locker to change as he tried to listen.</p><p>A couple of guys approached Derek while he was getting undressed, talking about past games. It was quickly obvious they were old teammates, and while he didn't know if Derek could tell by the way he was responding shortly, Dean could tell they were trying to engage an old friend in a shared interest. It took a minute for the guys to give up, and by then Dean was dressed. </p><p>Everyone else was heading to the showers, but Dean? Ha, well, Dean wasn't even going to try. It was best not to go poking a sleeping erection.</p><p>He shot Derek one last look as he left, eyeing his bare back as Derek walked to the showers in a towel. With a thought that those muscles were just simply unfair, he pushed through the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Welcome to Beacon Hills High, Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It occurred to me that this really could be the second half of the first chapter, and I'll probably do some edits to do that. For now, I'm doing my best to keep my chapters on the shorter side to help me get them out there.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading! And a giant thank you for those who left kudos! Never had more bookmarks than kudos before lol</p><p>I'm adding some tags about food and lack thereof, just in case. Fair warning, in this chapter, which is still Dean's narrative, there's stealing for food to eat. So, chapter TW: mentions of alcohol/alcoholism; suggestive abusive parent; hunger due to said parent/poverty</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean's and Sammy's schools both got out at the same time, but Dean knew Sammy would wait for him. He took his time walking, reviewing the route in his mind every so often if he let his mind wander too far. Their schools weren't that far apart, but it was still a good ten minutes.</p><p>The middle school wasn't as large as the high school was, and it was closer to one of the main roads, causing traffic as kids were picked up. Dean jogged across the road and stood on the sidewalk to survey the front.</p><p>Most of the kids were gathered around the entrance, craning their necks to look at the long line of cars or otherwise ignoring the line and chatting with their friends. A few were heading down the street, walking home or wherever else. Buses pulled out from the back, loaded with more kids, but a few were loitering off to the side. That was where Dean spotted Sam, talking with a group.</p><p>Dean smiled to himself and waited for a little bit. Sam <em>hated </em>each and every time they moved, and it had gotten to where he hated every time they enrolled in a new school because inevitably, he would make friends he would have to leave. Dean didn't know why he kept bothering to even make friends, but Sam making friends wherever he went was sort of just a Sam-thing, he guessed. He didn't think it was done purposely; people just gravitated toward Sam, and Dean could understand that.</p><p>Eventually, he had to interrupt. </p><p>"Sam!" he hollered, not wanting to step onto the school's property and have teachers chase him. He knew how he presented in his leather jacket, and even if he didn't, nosy teachers would have taught him real quick.</p><p>Sam jerked his head around, seeing him, and waved. He said goodbye to the others, but one of them had looked, too, and apparently saw cause for him to leave as well. Dean just focused on Sam as Sam tried pulling on his backpack as he ran. The goof. He tripped a little on his feet but was smiling brightly at Dean.</p><p>"Dean!" he called before he had reached him. "Dean, this place is awesome!"</p><p>Dean smiled back. "That's good, buddy."</p><p>Sam skidded to a stop in front of Dean, still having not managed to get his backpack on. Dean simply took it from him, resigned to carrying it as Sam immediately jumped into telling Dean all about his classes. Dean just kept smiling, clapping him on the shoulder and leading him in the right direction. </p><p>As they walked, Sam paused long enough to say, "Bye Russ!" before diving back into his monologue. Dean glanced at who he addressed long enough to see it was the other boy who took off after Sam and then did a double-take to see who was picking him up.</p><p>He and Derek met eyes, Derek's dark hair wet and pale skin shiny with a recent shower, and Dean felt his smile falter. Derek was watching him and Sam intently and with interest, and Dean jerked his eyes away before he could lose focus on what Sam was saying. So what? Derek the Great was picking up a bratty brother or something, too, so the fuck what?</p><p>"-- but Mr Batey said that was molecular science, and we're going to focus on biology—"</p><p>"How the <em> fuck </em> do you know about molecular science?" Dean interrupted, trying not to think of Derek. They were quickly moving too far away for him to hear them, anyway. It was Sammy-focusing time.</p><p>"Because of the Cordell University's telescope, duh, Dean."</p><p>"Oh, <em> duh</em>," Dean scoffed.</p><p>"But we'll be studying biology, and we'll be dissecting animals, Dean, just like in the movies! Like, I knew some school still did that, I guess, but this school does! And not just frogs! We'll do worms, fish, shrimp, a bunch of stuff!"</p><p>"You are way too excited about cutting up animals, Sammy."</p><p>"They're already dead, so." Sam shrugged. "Then there was algebra. I have Coach Turner, and she's really cool. She coaches the girls' softball team. And she taught mainly with the projector, just writing on it, and completely ignored the board."</p><p>"Sounds annoying."</p><p>"No, it was cool! And there I met Alicia, and she caught me up, and I can do slope-intercept forms now."</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>"It's a thing you do on the graph, it's really easy. The equation is y equals mx plus b."</p><p>"I bet there's a dirty joke in there somewhere."</p><p>"Dean." Sam swatted at him then took off on another topic. By this time, they've turned a corner, and Dean felt like Derek's gaze was finally off him. It made it easier to focus on Sam, and while he teased and mocked his dork of a brother, he still listened, filing everything away in his mind. It was good to hear Sam this excited and happy. Dean felt like it was too rare these days.</p><p>They made it to the motel in about forty minutes, having stopped just long enough for Sam to run into a market and grab some school supplies. He had already lifted their dad's wallet the day before, grabbing one of John's illegal credit cards. Dean thought that was risky of him, but Sam always had to do one rebellious thing every new town. Dean would happily take the blame when John noticed just to see Sam smile at damn highlighters.</p><p>Once at the motel, their room opened up to a small kitchenette that at least had a stove. They only had two beds, but he and Sammy could share. Dean looked to see if John had put something in the fridge for them while they were at school, which he hadn't, and began reviewing cheap meals they could have. He regretted the coffee that morning, knowing it could have bought them a couple of packets of ramen. </p><p>Sam almost tripped onto the kitchenette's table in his excitement to do homework with his new supplies. Dean snorted at him, tossing the one book he brought from school with him on the table too. He looked at it, <em> Catcher in the Rye, </em> and wondered if Sammy knew any of the vocab words for his lit class.</p><p>He waited until Sam was fully engrossed in his work to step out and call Bobby.</p><p>Bobby was a family friend, a hunter like them. He lived in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and John used to leave Dean and Sam with him a lot when they were growing up. If there was one school district they could have had friends, it was that one, but they were gone too often to keep any.</p><p>"'Ello," Bobby answered on the fourth ring.</p><p>"Hey, Bobby."</p><p>"Hey, boy." Dean heard a thunk, like Bobby setting down a glass. "Is it past three already? How the first day go?"</p><p>Dean grunted his shrug. "Fine, I guess. Sam had a blast. Only shut up about it to do homework."</p><p>Bobby chuckled. "Sounds 'bout right."</p><p>"I'm in a lit class. Started reading <em> Catcher in the Rye </em>."</p><p>"Oh, really?"</p><p>"Yeah. It's alright, I guess. Heard from Dad?"</p><p>"Nah, not for a few days."</p><p>"Know nothing about this hunt then?"</p><p>"Nope." Bobby popped the 'p'. "And if I did, I wouldn't tell you."</p><p>"Why not?" Dean whined.</p><p>"'Cause you gotta read <em> Catcher in the Rye. </em>"</p><p>"You're an evil man."</p><p>Bobby chuckled again. "You boys good on food?"</p><p>"Yeah," Dean lied. Then changed the subject the only sure-fire way he knew with Bobby. "Heard from Rufus?"</p><p>"That idjit's gonna get himself killed!" And like that, Bobby was telling Dean about how the man's best friend went by himself to clean out a vamp nest. Dean laughed, enjoying Bobby's storytelling methods that included a bunch of swearing and twelve different ways of calling Rufus a moron.</p><p>They hung up a few minutes later, and Dean debated calling his dad. It wouldn't be wise if his dad was following a lead or something, but there were logistics that needed to be discussed since they couldn't do it last night or this morning.</p><p>"Hey Dad," he said when John answered.</p><p>"What'd you need?"</p><p>"I was wondering if you'll be back tonight? And if you'll bring dinner."</p><p>"Dunno. Left a twenty for you on the counter."</p><p>Dean doubted that because he would have seen if he had. Taking a chance, he said, "I didn't see it."</p><p>"Then look again," John huffed. "Y'all get back okay?"</p><p>"Yeah. Sammy had a great day."</p><p>"Good. Doin' your homework?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Good job. I gotta go."</p><p>John hung up, and Dean sighed.</p><p>He did double-check just in case, but there wasn't any twenty lying around. He supposed a maid could have taken it, thinking it was a tip or something.</p><p>Dean shoved his lit book in the inside pocket of his jacket and told Sammy he was going to find dinner for them, telling him their dad did leave some cash so he wouldn't worry. Sam waved him off, tongue sticking out as he drew dots on a graph that was taking up an entire page of notebook paper. Dean ruffled his hair and dodged a kick, grinning as he left.</p><p>Right. Time to sharpen his thievery skills.</p><p>He walked the town, mapping out best targets. He supposed he shouldn't have brought his lit book in order to leave that pocket open to carry more food, but it provided a good cover as he sat and watched one market, different from the one he went into with Sam. A bunch of kids were outside the little cafe across the street, and he was hardly the only one with a book. He didn't focus on a word of his own, chosing instead to scope the store.</p><p>It didn't look to be a part of a bigger chain of stores, but it wasn't quite a Ma-and-Pa place either. It had signs advertising fresh produce and deals when joining their rewards programme. It was small, but humans were nothing if not habitual, and sure enough, once five o'clock hit and people were leaving work, the store began getting busier.</p><p>Dean knew his opening when he saw it.</p><p>Shoving his book back into his jacket, he zipped it up, crossed the street and casually strode in.</p><p>First, he swiped an apple because Sammy loved those. He wouldn't get away with stealing peanut butter, which was what Sam preferred to eat with his apples, but it would have to do. Next, he roamed the frozen meal aisle, praying for one of those small containers of Chinese, but there wasn't any. The bulk of those items were telly dinners, small, flat rectangles of obvious under his jacket. So, he backtracked to the canned goods and pantry meals. </p><p>He and Sam had begun to <em>hate </em>mac and cheese, but they were the easiest to steal in the individual containers and were alright without milk. He grabbed some chilli, too, which was equally tiresome but at least filled them up. He got some ramen as well, and eyed the cans but knew he couldn't get away with it. If his dad was forcing them into school, they would be here at least a few weeks. Which meant he probably was going to have to be back to steal again. He couldn't get caught.</p><p>Just as he was thinking that, spinning to leave with an expression of someone who didn't find what they were looking for, he had to freeze.</p><p>At the end of the aisle were a man and a woman watching him.</p><p>The man looked amused. He had short brown hair and piercing blue eyes and wore an expensive-looking t-shirt and trousers. The woman beside him looked concerned, and she had blonde hair tied into a messy bun, also in expensive-looking casual clothing. They were pushing a basket almost filled to the brim.</p><p>They both looked at his jacket as he shifted, and Dean had a panicked moment thinking something was poking out. When he looked down, however, he saw everything looked smooth. Sure, he looked like he gained a couple of pounds since he entered, but hey, technically he had.</p><p>When he looked back up, the woman opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but paused right after Dean felt his stomach rumble in hunger. It wasn't a loud rumble by any means. Dean himself didn't hear it, just felt it ripple across his belly. So, he ignored it and just waited, hoping he wasn't about to be called out or something.</p><p>The woman clicked her mouth shut at the man wrapping a hand around her wrist, and they both turned away, shooting Dean last little glances, the man again looking amused and the woman concerned.</p><p>Dean figured they probably did see him steal, but they weren't saying anything. Dean wasn't stupid enough to risk them changing their mind, so he quickly went around them and left. He didn't breath normally until he was about a block away. That was close, and Dean resolved to be sneakier.</p><p>Dean returned back to the motel to find Sammy had not only finished his homework but also read ahead in several of his texts. Dean made him watch television as he made them some dinner.</p><p>"I'm so sick of mac and cheese," Sam complained.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"And ramen."</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"And chilli. Can't Dad give us more money for anything else?"</p><p>Dean hid his wince. "Not like huntin' pays."</p><p>"Yeah, I know, but <em>one </em>apple? Really?"</p><p>"I'll get you more tomorrow."</p><p>"And peanut butter?" Sam asked hopefully.</p><p>"Sure," Dean sighed, wondering if he could.</p><p>They ate mac and cheese, and Sam had his apple and a bowl of chilli. Dean washed the two plastic bowls they had just in case Sam wanted more later. </p><p>It wasn't until much later when Sam had gone to bed that John came back.</p><p>Dean turned down the television when he heard the card swipe on the door, and he tried not to look too interested as his dad stumbled in, an office box under one arm and a duffle bag in the other. He brought with him the strong smell of whiskey, gun powder, and metal. Dean was used to the smell, but it always hit a little harder after a day of not being around it.</p><p>John grunted a hello before dumping his things on the kitchenette table, slumping into his chair and rubbing his face.</p><p>"How'd everything go?" Dean asked.</p><p>"Fine," John answered, slipping the bag to the floor to open the box. He began pulling out files. "Got some leads."</p><p>"Need any help?"</p><p>"Done your homework?"</p><p>"Yes, sir," Dean lied easily.</p><p>"Then sure." John kicked one of the chairs out in invitation. </p><p>Dean thumbed the television off and glanced back at Sam, making sure he was still sound asleep. He rolled his shoulders and prepared himself for showing his dad his worth, that he was useful. However, approaching the table, the files gave him pause.</p><p>Normally, the files would have been police reports and newspaper clipping along with pictures of gruesome dead bodies and disturbing crime scenes. It was par for the course for hunters, and Dean had become desensitised to that kind of thing a while ago. After all, it was hard to have a soft stomach when the only thing stopping more people from being killed was gutting something himself.</p><p>Instead of that, however, it files looked to be like plain office files. Spreadsheets, documents, that kind of thing.</p><p>"What is this?"</p><p>"This isn't like other hunts. This one is big, with a big werewolf pack," his dad opened, flipping through the pages and dividing them. "Sometimes mutts can be civil enough to fit into a community, even convince some hunters that they're no different from regular humans. One such pack as done that here, in Beacon Hills. Decades ago, by the looks of it. Now, they found a way to not only secure their place but for the pack itself to be a prominent fixture in town. This pack has the prestige and wealth like goddamn politicians. Every monster on the west coast who wants to come crawling out of hiding and into society has to go through them, and they even do goddamn <em> negotiations </em> with hunters for territory and shit like that."</p><p>Dean was frowning. He hadn't ever heard anything like this, but then again, his dad just said this wasn't like other hunts. He carefully slid into his seat, focused between his dad and the papers. "So, they're… what? Tamed?"</p><p>John gave Dean a look that clearly said that if he was going to waste his time being stupid he could fuck off. "They're damn supernatural mutts with a taste for blood— what do you think?"</p><p>Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know what to think, honestly. If a werewolf pack was intelligent enough to earn prestige even among hunters, to have negotiations and things, then wouldn't that mean they weren't exactly mindless killing machines? </p><p>He knew better to say that, however, and just shrugged.</p><p>"They're more of a threat, I think," John continued, going back to the files. "Either their devious enough to have some kind of high-power scheme going, or they're powerful enough to be threatening hunters and high-ranking human officials alike. Regardless, if one pack has been getting away with it this long, there are probably others. Which means they could be aligning to take over."</p><p>Dean blanched a little. "Take over? Take over what, the world?"</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>A chill ran down Dean's spine, and he shivered. "How is that even possible?"</p><p>"That's what we're going to find out." John picked up a large stack of documents and flopped them down in front of Dean. "Financial records to the county. Look for anything that could indicate a bribe."</p><p>Dean tried not to blanch again. "What even would indicate a bribe?"</p><p>John narrowed his eyes, obviously not in the mood to be patient with Dean's stupid questions. Dean quickly nodded and pulled the documents closer. He had no idea what to look for, but he knew if he was going to help, he had better start looking anyway. His mind worked furiously, trying to think about what a bribe would look like outside of movies.</p><p>Well, he figured, if nothing else he could mark wherever numbers didn't add up or if money moved without any clear destinations. Unfortunately, after an hour of this, he realised he wasn't finding anything like that.</p><p>Whatever his dad was working on seemed to be proving more fruitful. His mood visibly lightened, and Dean was pleased to see he hadn't yet reached for the whiskey. He didn't delude himself into thinking he was completely off the hook, not with how John reacted when he protested going back to school the night before, but he could relax knowing that if he played his cards right, his dad's mood would be stable.</p><p>So, when John did break out the whiskey and leaned back in his chair to ask, "So, how was the school?" Dean let himself freely roll his eyes.</p><p>"It's a high school, Dad, what'd you think?"</p><p>John chuckled. "Learn anything at least?"</p><p>"Uh… I learned there's actually a word for when something nonhuman acts human."</p><p>"Yeah? What's that?"</p><p>"Ana… Uh. Hold up." Dean jumped up and pulled out his book from his jacket. "Anthropomorphism!"</p><p>John snorted. "That's quite a mouthful."</p><p>"No kidding," Dean agreed, sliding back into his seat.</p><p>"What about the people?" John asked, which surprised Dean.</p><p>"The people?"</p><p>"Yeah. Meet anyone interesting?"</p><p>This was unusual for his dad to be asking, and Dean had a moment of panic, remembering the Derek kid and wondering if his dad somehow was wanting confirmation that Dean still only noticed girls. So, he latched onto the first few girls he could think of. </p><p>He told him about the girl who checked him out in his lit class, and how she ended up on the opposite team from him in gym. Then he told him about Neka, the game, and how the girls played. He couldn't really remember any of the other girls, so then he went on a lewd description of his Spanish teacher. At that point, John stopped him with a laugh.</p><p>"Keep it in your pants, son," he said, grinning. "I'm glad you're making friends." He paused, seeming to consider something, then poured a third glass of whiskey as he said, "I met an interesting lady."</p><p>Dean froze. His dad never, <em> ever </em>talked about any other woman except their mother. Hell, his dad's grief for their dead mom was almost its own presence everywhere John went. A wave of emotions from disbelief to betrayal flickered through Dean before John continued.</p><p>"A hunter." Dean let out a breath. So, not a <em> lady </em>-lady, a hunter lady. That was different. "Sister of an old buddy of mine."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah, the Argents. Remember me talkin' 'bout them?"</p><p>Dean nodded. "Yeah, Chris Argent, right?"</p><p>"That's him. They're a good family of hunters, some of the best. Chris' old man's life work has been building up a large network of hunters, kind of operation that would make Bobby bust a nut."</p><p>Dean snorted. "So, the sister hunts too?"</p><p>"Sure does. She seems lethal. She's here in town, following the same leads I am. She helped me get access to this stuff," he gestured to the documents. "You and Sammy need to keep your eyes out, though. She told me the pack might have fuckin' kids in it."</p><p>"Wait, really?" Dean's jaw dropped. "They're turning <em> kids</em>."</p><p>"Seems like it. She's taken a position as a sub around the public schools, hoping to weed them out. I suggest you and Sammy do the same. There's nothing we can do to fix them, of course, but we could at least get them away from their abusers. She says her family has systems in place for when this kind of shit happens."</p><p>Dean whistled lowly. "That's good, I guess. Jesus, what kind of monster would turn kids?"</p><p>"All monsters, Dean. Every single one of them is that rotten to their core."</p><p>Dean nodded slowly. If there was a pack in town attacking kids, turning them and forcing them into some high-office pack thing, Dean was all too happy to help get rid of them. Determination renewed, he pulled the financial papers back to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know what you think!<br/>I know Dean isn't as hardcore Monsters are Evil like he is in the show, but I'm building him as young enough to not be completely blinded. That doesn't mean he's going to turn against his dad easily, though, nor that he won't have prejudices to work through. He's just going to be in a better spot to do so. If it isn't working, please let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Deputy Stilinski</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean's determination to help with his father's case leads to ditching classes and getting the attention of a certain deputy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again, the food thing, so chapter TW: mentions/ suggestions of an abusive parent; references to drinking; hunger due to said parenting; accidentally alerting competent adults to lack of fooding.</p><p>Forgot this warning last chapter, I am adding tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sammy woke up extra early the next morning in his excitement to go to school. It was nice to see Sam happy instead of his usual grumpiness when they moved schools, and it warmed Dean's heart, sure, but <em> Jesus fucking Christ. </em></p><p>Dean and John were still awake. John had made it through half his bottle of whiskey, but it was his work-drinking and not angry-drinking or sorrow-drinking, so he still had a stronghold of his cognitive functions. Dean had looked at numbers so much and so hard, he could see them with his eyes closed. He had found absolutely nothing, but luckily, John seemed to expect that and wasn't too disappointed.</p><p>Dean slunk to the motel lobby to get coffee while Sam showered and got ready for the day, and Sam kept their dad busy telling him all about the <em>great new school </em>while Dean got ready for the day himself.</p><p>Dean had paused after brushing his teeth to regard his reflection. He had dark circles under his green eyes and was paler than usual, making his stupid freckles stand out. His light brown hair needed a haircut already, and he didn't bother to try to style it. </p><p>John was engrossed back on the case when they decided to leave. It was a bit earlier than they should have left, but Dean was willing to indulge Sammy, just this once at least. Birds were chirping in the morning chill as they walked, the sky light with the new day. Dean yawned so widely, a bee almost flew in his mouth.</p><p>"So," Sam opened when they were halfway to Sam's school, "what's this case?"</p><p>Dean shrugged. "Werewolves."</p><p>Sam nodded. "Is it dangerous?"</p><p>"Dunno. Don't think it's as dangerous as the others. These mutts seem to be community figures or something. Oh, but that reminds me. Dad wants us to keep an eye out at school."</p><p>Sam frowned. "Why?"</p><p>"Apparently this pack has turned fuckin' kids." Dean scowled at the thought of it. "They could be in our classes. Dad's teaming up with some hunter chick, the sister of Christ Argent. Remember him?"</p><p>"Um… vaguely?" Sam scrunched up his face.</p><p>"Well, he's a hunter buddy of Dad's. The family is in the scene pretty deeply. Their dad is even working on a whole network or something. Anyway, there's no werewolf-cure for the kids, but they have some kind of set up that might can help them. At least get them away from the monsters that kidnapped and turned them at least."</p><p>Sam looked sad, and he nodded slowly. "That's horrible. Don't you think someone else would have noticed them by now?"</p><p>"Well, they may not be at school, y'know? The monsters may be keeping them. Or it could be like Stockholmes or something. I mean, think about it, you're just a kid, snatched away from your family, turned, and the only other people around are monsters, like you are now? No telling what they've been doing, what they've been teaching them."</p><p>"I guess. I'll keep a lookout. Any leads who they are?"</p><p>Dean shook his head. "Not yet. Dad's working on it."</p><p>"Okay." Sam took a deep breath. "What else can I do?"</p><p>"Keep your head down. Be the dork you are."</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. "What about you? What are you doing?"</p><p>"Same thing."</p><p>"Yeah, right," Sam snorted. "What are you <em> going </em> to do?"</p><p>"Help Dad as much as I can. If there are some mutts at the high school, I could possibly get close enough to them to find the pack. Meanwhile, Dad and that hunter chick are following leads with the county." Dean debated telling Sam about the dangers of the pack being connected enough to start making some kind of advance werewolf-army or something, but he didn't want to give Sam another thing to worry about. Especially not when he was so excited about his new school and friends. "It should be easy enough. So." He shrugged.</p><p>"Okay. Well, if there is anything else I can do."</p><p>"We'll let you know. Tell me about this telescope thingy you mentioned yesterday."</p><p>It took Sam a moment to remember what it was, then he went off. Dean let him talk, trying to get his tired mind to wake up more.</p><p>When they got to the school, Sam suddenly let out a dramatic, "Oh no! I forgot!" before digging in his backpack and pulling out forms that he had needed their dad to sign.</p><p>"I'll do it," Dean said, taking the forms.</p><p>It was the standard forms he always filled out for Sam when they started a new school. It instructed him of Sam's locker number, his classes and teachers, what bus route was for the fake address they had given the office, different upcoming events at the school, and ah, yes. The weekly cost of Sam's breakfast and lunch. He had really been hoping they would wait a few days for that.</p><p>He signed what forms he could and told Sam he would go in and give them to Sam's administrative office. Sam agreed and showed him where it was, pointing out other classroom and things as they went by and clearly overjoyed to have Dean on his campus and seeing this place. </p><p>They paused outside the office.</p><p>"Alright, go have the great-super-awesome-dork day you know and love. I'll see you after."</p><p>"Okay. Bye, Dean!"</p><p>Dean grinned, watching him bound off, then tried to fix a charming grin on his face before going in.</p><p>There were two workers behind the counter, obviously just getting in. Dean approached one woman with red hair and pink dangly earrings.</p><p>"Mornin'."</p><p>"Good morning." She smiled, looking at him up and down. "How can I help you?"</p><p>"Uh, I'm here about my little brother, Sam Winchester. We just enrolled yesterday. I got these for you." He handed over the forms but kept the lunch one out. "And, uh, I was hoping to talk to someone about when the deadline for this one is?"</p><p>She flipped through the forms he handed her, nodding, then squinted at the one he held up. She frowned. "Let's see… Hey, 'Livia?"</p><p>"Yeah?" Someone from one of the private offices called back.</p><p>"Do you know the deadline for Mr Winchester's lunch bill?"</p><p>The other woman made a considering sound before emerging from the office.</p><p>Dean's stomach sank. This 'Livia was the blonde woman from the market the day before, the very one Dean was sure knew he was stealing. He flinched when she looked at him.</p><p>"Oh. Uh, hello."</p><p>"Uh… hi." He tried to smile. He was perfectly innocent. Yep. Innocent, angel of a kid. In leather, but hey, why not? "Hi. Yeah. Um, when is the deadline for this?" He held up the form again. "For my little brother. I mean, we can pay it, but uh, I don't have it on me right now. Sammy forgot he had these forms until we got here. Uh…" he trailed off, realising that wouldn't be a good defence considering he had signed the forms with his father's signature. "Uh, what I mean is, he forgot <em>this </em>form. After our dad signed the others. Those. Yeah. Anyway, can we pay later?"</p><p>She was frowning at him, watching intensely during his verbal tapdance. He could feel his heartbeat jump with every lie, and he was just praying that his stealing yesterday wasn't going to somehow fuck up Sam's most reliable source of fucking food.</p><p>"Right…" the woman said, sounding way too calculating for Dean's liking. Then she smiled and walked over to take the form from Dean, reading through it. "Ah. That's just fine, dear. I believe this was the wrong one anyway."</p><p>Dean felt his eyebrows shoot up in his surprise. "Wait, really?"</p><p>"Yes, terribly sorry." She smiled apologetically. "Mr Winchester, you said?"</p><p>Dean nodded. "Yeah. Uh, Sammy— Sam Winchester, my little brother."</p><p>"Right. He's actually in a different lunch grouping. I'll find the right forms and send them home with him."</p><p>"Oh." He narrowed his eyes. "We can pay for it. We have the money. It's just not on me; we didn't know."</p><p>"Of course, no problem."</p><p>"We do," Dean insisted. "It's just what, twenty bucks a week? Who doesn't have twenty bucks a week?"</p><p>"Yes, of course," she agreed. "I believe you. Don't worry. We'll send home the right forms and get it squared away. There's no hurry."</p><p>Dean didn't believe her, and judging by her placating, she didn't believe him. Irritated, he decided to cut and run before he could dig himself a deeper grave. "Right… Well, is there anything I need to do for Sam? We. Dad. Us."</p><p>"I'm not sure…" she said, thumbing the other forms. The first woman had wandered down the counter to do something on the computer, not paying them much attention. Or seemed not to be, but as Dean looked over, he could tell she was listening. "I think these are it so far. Just… is this a good number to reach your father?"</p><p>God-fucking-damnit. Thank Jesus fuck he had put his own number down instead. "Yeah. That's him."</p><p>She raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Then we should be set for now. We'll call if we missed anything."</p><p>"Okay. Uh, thanks." He tapped the counter once with a small wave and slunk out. His initial instinct to not enter the school grounds the day before had been correct, apparently. He should definitely avoid it from now on, and probably that market too.</p><p>He told himself not to punch anything on his way out.</p><p>Dean took a detour on the way to the high school. He stopped outside the county courthouse, leaning casually against a lamp post to watch. If these werewolves were in so tight with the community and the town, then there was a high chance they would have someone stationed here. He was used to the usual signs of werewolves, but he figured these would be more disguised. Instead, he wanted to get a feel for the people who frequented the building, simply see what he saw.</p><p>There were several people in suits and briefcases coming in and out. It was pretty obvious which were the lawyers and which were the business grunts as the lawyers were the ones constantly checking the time and looked to be in a hurry. Then of course there were the cops. None of them seemed to be escorting anyone, which probably was expected for a town this small probably didn't have any high-risk criminals on the daily. At one point, he noticed one policeman watching him, no doubt wondering why a teenaged leather-jacket type was loitering outside the courthouse, but he seemed not to think of Dean as a threat. </p><p>Or, so Dean had thought until about a half-hour later.</p><p>"Shouldn't you be in school, son?"</p><p>Dean jumped, having not heard anyone approach him. It was the policeman, and according to his uniform now that he was close enough for Dean to see, was actually the deputy. "Uh…"</p><p>The man shifted a little, looking slightly amused but still authoritative. He hooked his thumbs on his belt and just raised an eyebrow, apparently content to wait for Dean to give an actual answer.</p><p>"Uh, yes. Yes. And I am getting up now," he said, doing just that, "to go. Right now."</p><p>"Mhm."</p><p>"Just lost track of the good old," he tapped his wrist where there was, in fact, no watch.</p><p>"I'd hurry if I were you."</p><p>"Of course. Yes. Uh… thanks!" Dean took off at a fast pace, peeking over his shoulder a couple of times to find the deputy still watching him. The guy looked nice enough, but Dean's dad would whoop his ass if he knew he caught his attention. Today was just <em>not </em> Dean's day.</p><p>Dean arrived at Beacon Hills High with his first class almost over. He had to go to the office and accept a late slip and waited there until the bell. When he closed his eyes, he could still see a swarm of financial data numbers, and it was enough to keep him awake.</p><p>He had <em>planned </em>on sleeping through his classes, but unfortunately, the teachers were far less inclined to give him a break like they apparently did the day before. His sarcasm in reply to their reprimands was not appreciated, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from getting detention.</p><p>He dragged his feet when the lunch bell rang, knowing that he, too, had that stupid lunch form he couldn't fill out and pay, and so that today he wouldn't be allowed food. He wished he had the balls to ask his dad for some cash before they left, but he didn't want to alert Sammy that there hadn't been any money the day before. He knew John would ask what he did with the change of the non-existent twenty if he had, and it hadn't felt worth either discussion. Besides, keeping those two from fighting was a higher priority to Dean anyway.</p><p>Still, he wished he had at least asked when he pushed through the cafeteria doors and smelled the food. He still tried to get lunch but was turned away at the register. Instead, he grabbed a few ketchup packets and went outside. All the better not to smell the food anyway.</p><p>Like the day before, most of the tables were taken, so he went back to the same one he had sat at, and Mr Perfect Derek Back Muscles was there, his plate piled high with chicken sandwiches oozing mayonnaise and french fries.</p><p>He ignored the other boy as he sat, opening one of the packets to suck on as he pulled out <em> Catcher in the Rye</em>. The book was easy enough to fall into, and before long he was pulling out another pencil he had stolen earlier that day to make his little commentary in the margins.</p><p>He wouldn't admit it even under duress, but reading was a nice distraction for him. It was a good way to tune out the rest of the world, forcing his brain to think on one thing and one thing only. When he was reading, there were no thoughts of dangerous monster cases or his father, or worrying about Sam, or even to think-vent about the bitter taste of ketchup and how very little it did for his stomach. He could even ignore his stomach rumbling unhappily at it, and the slightly queasy feeling of being hungry on literally no sleep.</p><p>When the bell rang, he rubbed his eyes then swore internally. He had only a couple of smokes left, but he had wanted to try to sneak one before the damn literature class.</p><p>Annoyed, he picked his way through the halls to the classroom, finding the same seat in the back and putting his head down. He was able to doze a little before the bell rang again to signal class starting and the teacher shutting the door. He ran roll call, and on Dean's name, politely asked him to sit up.</p><p>"<em> The Grapes of Wrath </em>!" the teacher announced cheerfully. "Everyone should have read the first four chapters. Let's start with our initial opinions."</p><p>The class was obviously well practised in this routine and jumped in with their thoughts, some being grateful for random short chapters of the book but confused why they even existed, others annoyed with them and wishing simply to follow the protagonist, a Tom Joad of all names. Dean snorted when he first heard it, but otherwise, kept his head propped up on his hand and watched calmly on.</p><p>The teacher began explaining the differences in writing styles shown in the book, how the shorter chapters— that sounded as if they didn't have anything to do with the plot— were written purposely to echo a Biblical style. Apparently because of something about the Dust Bowl? Dean stopped listening.</p><p>It was when Mr Perfect Derek spoke up that he zoned back in. "The turtle represents the farmers. It's symbolism for the hardship they're under."</p><p>"Yes, but more than that," the teacher answered. "What else could the turtle represent? What else could it mean, a turtle trying to cross the road only to be purposely hit and knocked to his back?"</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes. Several students looked around the room, clearly not knowing the answer. </p><p>"It's not a trick question," the teacher assured them. "Come on, an innocent turtle just minding his own business is maliciously knocked over. He has to struggle to flip himself right, and by that time, the only thing left for him to do is just to keep walking. What could that mean?"</p><p>"Life's a bitch," Dean said. He had meant to mumble it, but he was tired, and his tired voice carried.</p><p>A few people sniggered but the teacher smiled at Dean. "Mind the language, but go on."</p><p>Other students were watching him now, so Dean shrugged. "Life's gonna knock you over. Sometimes there ain't no justice, you just gotta keep going."</p><p>"Exactly!" The teacher actually beamed at Dean. Dean decided not to feel proud, it was just a stupid lit book. "The turtle is everyone, and everyone will have periods of hardship and obstacles. Sometimes there's justice," he gestured to Dean, "sure, but the important thing Steinback is saying is that in life, we sometimes have to struggle to get back on our feet.</p><p>"Now, let's move on to chapter four…"</p><p>Dean stopped listening again until more sniggering had him refocusing. Now there was another character named Casy who fucked his way out of being a preacher. That, and this Tom guy had just gotten out of prison for getting in a drunken brawl with someone and killing the son of a bitch. Wait, what even was this book?</p><p>"I think Casy makes a good point," one kid was saying. "Our spirits <em> are </em> the Holy Spirit."</p><p>"That wasn't the point though," another said. </p><p>"What was the point?" the teacher encouraged her.</p><p>"Casy lost his faith. He owns up to it, sure, but his new religious philosophy is just a way to excuse what he's done. Tom, though, is just like, 'Yeah, I killed someone. I was drunk. It happens.'"</p><p>Dean chuckled with a few others.</p><p>"Can you expand on that?" the teacher asked, making it obvious she was onto something. </p><p>She looked thoughtful but confused. "… Maybe something about Tom… juxtaposing… with the bankers?"</p><p>"I don't think so," Mr Perfect Derek said. "And I don't think Casy lost his faith. I think he's just wanting to experience it differently. He wants to be equal to everyone else. He doesn't want to be in a position where what he does reflects who he is. Then you have Tom who already is that. He's killed someone, but we see for ourselves how nice he is, that he cares— even for the turtle. He even says that if he was in that situation again, he would have done the same thing. He knows that just because he killed once, it doesn't make him a murderer, and he doesn't let it define who he is."</p><p>"Very good!" The teacher was damn near bouncing. "Excellent, Derek, excellent!" Oh, look, Perfect Derek is perfect again. Just give the dude his house points, damn. "Tom is emerging here as the embodiment of one of Steinback's themes. After all, he's our hero. So, what does that make Casy?"</p><p>"The sidekick," Dean answered. He didn't know when he had sat up and become fully engaged, but he had been glaring— glaring, yes, that— at the back of Derek's head. Without consultation with his brain, his mouth had decided to join the discussion.</p><p>"How so?" the teacher prompted, smiling.</p><p>"Well, I mean, think about it. Robin just met his Batman. If he sees all that in Tom, then he's going to want to learn from him, right? And if this is, like, one of The Themes of the thing— and I mean, if Tom's the hero, and he's already learned this and this is chapter <em>four</em>, then some other character's gonna have to learn it, right? So the readers do? So, bam, sidekick."</p><p>Some other kids muttered to each other, and Derek was looking over his shoulder, giving Dean an odd look. The teacher, however, looked immensely pleased. "An analysis based on standard literary conventions and formulas! Well done, Dean, well done! You've hit the nail on the head! Indeed, Tom is the moral consciousness of this work, and Casy is the moral mouthpiece..."</p><p>And with that last, Dean small bubble of pride bled right into confusion. <em> Moral mouthpiece?  </em></p><p>The teacher then went on to explain Casy's good speech-making skills and how it was already evident from the chapter, giving strong hints about what was to come, and Dean slouched, feeling stupider by the minute. He eventually gave up and went back to zoning out.</p><p>The bell rang with the teacher shouting out that their homework was reading the next three chapters, and Dean ignored it to be the first to leave, not having anything to pack up.</p><p>Next was chemistry, and Dean avoided the Dumbest Sack of Shit he had the day before. To his delight, Neka was actually in the class, and he asked to join her. She agreed, her usual lab partner volunteering to sit with another friend. That caused their partner to find someone else, and by the time Mr Perfect Derek came into the classroom, <em> he </em>was paired with the Dumbest Sack of Shit. That wasn't Dean's original goal, but he couldn't complain about it.</p><p>Sure enough, something between Dumbest Sack of Shit and Mr Perfect Derek Sandwich King went wrong within the first five minutes, and they were assigned book work. Meanwhile, Dean and Neka flew through their lab, swapping jokes and innocuous things about each other.  Dean had no idea some girls actually wore wigs, but hey, he couldn't argue Neka's hair was bad-fucking-ass.</p><p>Finishing their lab early gave Dean an opportunity to get some info about the other students as well. He had been observing the other kids as his dad had asked, but he had yet to see anyone that even hinted to being supernatural, let alone anyone walking about with trauma over their heads. It was easy to get Neka gossiping, and Dean learned a lot about her group of friends (he didn't know who Jordon was, but he agreed he was a total asshat), about the neighbourhood where she lived (there was no way her little sister wronged the afro girl down the block, it just wasn't in her character), and about the drama of the school starting a lacrosse team (Dean didn't know what lacrosse was, but yeah, girls should totally be allowed to play!). In the end, he had no suspects, but Jordon and afro-girl better hope they didn't run into Dean.</p><p>Their PE course next consisted of rock climbing, and Dean took one look at it before Noping himself right out of there, ditching school outright, and returning to the courthouse. He found a bench down the street, which made it harder for him to stake out but at least made him less conspicuous. </p><p>Or, he had hoped.</p><p>"Son," someone sighed, making him jump. Again. And it was the same damn cop. "I know the schools aren't out yet. If they were, I would be at the station trying to convince <em> my </em> son to stop pestering the officers and to leave my handcuffs alone."</p><p>Dean blinked owlishly at him for a moment. The deputy looked as tired as Dean felt. He seemed less inclined to get Dean in trouble, honestly, and more like an exhausted parent reminding their kid for the millionth time to do homework or something. Taking that in, Dean let himself relax and gave him what he hoped was a winning smile.</p><p>"PE just isn't my thing?"</p><p>The deputy snorted and sat next to Dean, letting out that sore-bone grunt as he did so. "I'd love to play hookey. Spend the day at a bar instead of behind a badge."</p><p>Dean studied the man, keeping himself from frowning. "Then do it."</p><p>"Heh, I wish. So, who is it?"</p><p>"... What?"</p><p>The deputy jerked his head toward the courthouse. "Who's on the chopping block you're so worried about?"</p><p>Oh. That was a good excuse. Also, not a good excuse. This was the fucking goddamn deputy, and he had apparently taken an interest in Dean.</p><p>Thinking fast, Dean let his true nervousness show to buy himself time. <em>Babble</em>, he told himself, <em>but carefully.</em> <em>Babble with truths and tie them with a lie</em>.</p><p>"Uh… I wouldn't call it a chopping block, sir, it's just… I mean, it's just me, my little brother, and my dad. We just moved here. Sammy's so fucking— freaking. Freaking. Freaking excited about it, too, like you have no idea how rare that is. We move a lot, my dad, military, y'know. And they fight all the time about it. </p><p>"But yesterday, I picked Sammy up from school, and he kept going on about new friends and classes, and apparently there's some kind of fancy microscope that can see atoms, and y equals mx plus b, and he got this graphing paper and so many highlighters you'd think he wants to taste the rainbow. And I guess there used to be some dude named Aaron who either killed Alexander Hamilton or was his lover, I don't know, and there's some bug that only chirps in one key of some music thing, and they're going to be dissecting fish or something? And he set his damn alarm for six fucking in the morning, and hopped up like <em> 'We have school today!' </em>, and…"</p><p>He trailed off, suddenly aware his babbling was getting too truthful. It was time to tie it up with the lie, so he sighed and looked down to his clasped hands.</p><p>"And Dad came back after Sammy went to sleep, and he mentioned something about the courthouse and something about seeing how long we're staying, and I just…"</p><p>He trailed off again, this time meaning to sound pathetic. It worked, and the deputy gripped his shoulder. "I understand. Must be really hard, moving so much."</p><p>Dean nodded, not looking up. "I guess. It's hardest on Sam. He's not like me or Dad. I don't remember much of my mom, but he's like her. He wants the white-picket-fence and family barbeques."</p><p>The deputy made a slightly pained noise and let go of Dean's shoulder. He chuckled, and it sounded so forced, Dean looked up at him. "Sounds like my late wife. And to be honest with you, your brother sounds like my son. This week's obsession is unusual laws. Did you know it's illegal to walk backwards on a crosswalk eating a doughnut in Chicago?"</p><p>"Uh, no, can't say I did."</p><p>"And it's illegal to ride a bike in a pool in California, to sleep on top of a fridge in Arizona, and to hunt whales in Utah."</p><p>"Do… do they even have whales in Utah?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>"Huh."</p><p>The deputy chuckled, gripping Dean's shoulder once more. "I get where you're coming from, son, I do. It's good of you, to have your brother's back like this. Wish my boy had more than just me. But you aren't helping him by ditching your own schooling. Don't you want to trade stories with him? Don't you think he'd like to hear how much you're enjoying school here too?"</p><p>Dean winced. "I'm… not like him. He's a scholar. So fucking— freaking. Freaking. So freaking smart. I'm just," he waved his hand to himself. "I'm the ditcher, cheater, candlestick maker."</p><p>"I doubt that," the deputy hummed, clasping his own hands together now. "What classes are you taking?"</p><p>"The usuals, mostly. But some more advanced ones, too, I guess. I…" he pulled out <em> Catcher in the Rye </em>where he had it in his jacket. "I'm in a lit class."</p><p>"How's that going?"</p><p>"It's stupid, I don't see the point. So a bunch of old, boring dudes wrote pretty words, so what? But… well, I did good in class today, I think. I didn't ditch the whole day," he clarified quickly. "I did go. And, I guess I made some good points? Or something."</p><p>The deputy smiled at him. "You should tell your brother."</p><p>Dean huffed. "Yeah, that I guessed something smart on a book I'm not even reading? This," he jerked the book up, "isn't what we're reading. It's on the list, but I just started reading it because Holden swears like a sailor."</p><p>This time, the deputy actually laughed. "Whatever gets you reading, son. And yeah, you should. You're telling me you made good lit points without even having to read the book? If I was your little brother, I'd be impressed."</p><p>Dean definitely scowled, not blushed. "I guess."</p><p>"Think about it. Well," the deputy pushed himself up, standing, "it's getting to be that time. I've got to stick my head in there," he nodded to the courthouse, "about something and then pick my son up. I'm guessing you've got to get your Sammy."</p><p>"Yeah," Dean sighed. He paused, turning the book over in his hands before looking up. "Thanks, Deputy….?"</p><p>"Stilinski. And you can call me John."</p><p>Dean smiled, genuine. "Thanks, Deputy John. I'm not even gonna attempt the Stiles-whatever."</p><p>The deputy grinned widely. "Heh, that's what my son calls himself. Stiles."</p><p>"Then give him my best. He sounds as smart as Sammy. And tell him that in Washington state, it's illegal to set up a tent for a bear. Not offer a tent to a bear, or for a bear to steal yours, but to set one up for them. Poles and everything." He learned that one the hard way when his dad tried to set a trap for a monster and Dean had to bail him out from jail. It was a long night.</p><p>"Will do. Take care, son."</p><p>"You too."</p><p>Deputy John clapped his shoulder one last time and left for the courthouse. Dean watched him a moment, deciding he liked him, for a cop, and pulled out his phone to check the time. He had just enough time to get to Sammy's school.</p><p>There was no Mr Perfect Derek this time, and Sam was waiting for Dean on the sidewalk, chewing his lip so aggressively, Dean could tell from across the street. He ran toward Sam, not caring for the blasts of car horns it caused.</p><p>"Sammy?"</p><p>"It's okay. I think we're okay."</p><p>"Sammy…"</p><p>"Can we <em> go</em>, please?"</p><p>Dean hooked an arm around Sam's shoulders, aware that Sam was already a few inches taller than just a year ago, and marched him away. Sam waited until they were in their motel room before telling Dean why he appeared so anxious; instead, spending their walk idly talking about biology and some friend named Keith Hale with a giant family. </p><p>"It <em>is </em>okay," Sam opened when Dean shut the door. "Everything's <em> fine</em>."</p><p>"Sam."</p><p>Sam sighed heavily. "I was called into the office today. I was put on the free lunch programme, which you need to sign for, and I was asked some questions."</p><p>"What questions?"</p><p>"Like how I like it here, who are my parents, what Dad does for a living, and…"</p><p>"And?"</p><p>Sam shifted, looking uncomfortable but determined. "And. And what my meals are like at home, what evening meals looks like for us, that kind of thing. Dean. Dean, be honest with me. I know we have crap dinners, but is it really because we're that broke, or… Or does Dad just not care if we eat?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm finding writing their school days fun, actually. Anyway, I felt the need to explain: one thing I see a lot in both fandoms is both Dean and Derek being secret bookworms. I don't remember what set it off in the TWo fandom, but I remember in SPN, Dean was constantly surprising the other characters with his knowledge of books and authors. I even saw a ton of rant posts along with gifs of these incidences when a new writer had Dean complain about hating reading for a whole episode. I stan bookworm Dean and Derek!<br/>I also wanted to point out what Derek says about Casy in Grapes of Wrath, wanting to be equal and not defined by something he had done. That was absolutely intentional. Every lit thing here is intentional.<br/>Finally, one of my fave things about Dean is that he gets really into shit, even when he starts off insulting it. From veggie water to cosplay to fucking eating lizard while in an alternate reality, Dean gets into it. I don't have much practise in writing unreliable narration, so I know most of his "but nah" simply comes across as purposeful denial and avoidance, which I feel like is still in character. I am attempting and will continue to attempt some unreliable narration when it comes to exactly what Derek and the Hales are.<br/>If it's not working, please feel free to tell me! I will edit and work on it and will listen to all suggestions.<br/>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any and all feedback is welcome! Just please be kind. Please leave kudos if you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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